


Our Little Secret

by Skybloodfox



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, Daddy Kink, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, I Blame Tumblr, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Loss of Virginity, Lots of Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Public Blow Jobs, Rimming, So yeah, Step-parents, because it wouldn't be a fanfic with Handsome Jack in it if it didn't include daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:23:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skybloodfox/pseuds/Skybloodfox
Summary: Alternate contemporary universe: Moxxi and Jack are dating and maybe getting married. Rhys, Moxxi's son, get's some one on one 'quality' time with Jack.Yup. We're doing it folks. All aboard the smut train folks, we're heading straight to sinville.





	Our Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

> This started off on a tumblr post I made and posted. I had an idea but didn't want to write it. I was then asked what the idea was. I responded a step-dad Jack, step-son Rhys sort of thing happens. I ended up writing it. It's long. I hope those who encouraged me like it ;)

Note: you can find me [here](http://skybloodfox.tumblr.com/) on tumblr

 

The first time Rhys meets Jack, it’s Christmas break. Rhys flew home from university, texting his brother Austin the entire time.

 _‘Mom’s got a new boyfriend. I think she’s serious about this one.’_ The last text said and Rhys had sighed with the news but put on a brave face when his mother, Moxxi, called him to come home and meet her fiancé. He’d already had two stepfathers and wasn’t particularly interested in meeting the latest one.

 

* * *

 

The door rings and Rhys opens it. He’s startled to see the mismatched green and blue eyes staring back at him. Honey dark skin and black ink hair except for a fine streak of white set on a startling handsome face.

“Hello,” the man says. His voice is smooth and rich but decorated with a touch of arrogance.

“Hi,” Rhys swallows. Suddenly he regrets wearing his raggedy jeans and tacky sweater his mom bought him. He also wishes he’d taken the shower he’d desperately needed.

“Oh, Jack! You’re here. And you must be Angel.” Moxxi brushes past Rhys, pushing him aside from the door as she rushes toward them.

There’s a brief flash of amusement in those blue and green eyes before Rhys looks to the much shorter figure standing in front of Jack. She’s wearing designer shoes and a coat that probably cost more than Rhys’s tuition. She’s pale but with black hair like Jacks and piercing blue eyes. She runs an unhappy eye along the inside of the house as they enter. She’s carries a large Tupperware container in her arms.

“Oh what’s this?” August joins him, covered in piercings and another tacky sweater Moxxi bought him.

A spark enters Angel’s eyes at the sight of August.

“That’s something Angel made. She’s on a strict vegetarian diet. It’s usually easier if she brings something.” Jack answers they enter the house.

“Of course. It looks amazing. I’ll place it in the oven to warm up?” Moxxi offers.

Angel just gives a curt nod, but Rhys catches the way Jack elbows her gently as he takes off his coat.

“That would be kind, thank you.” Angel speaks.

There’s a sort of awkward moment in the next few seconds before August breaks it by shoving his hand toward Angel. “I’m August.”

“Angel.” A smile curls on her cherub lips as she shakes his hand.

“And this is my Rhys. He’s currently majoring in computer sciences.” Moxxi’s voice carries as she heads towards the kitchen carrying Angel’s food.

“Rhys, huh? How do you like it?” Jack says. His tone is trying to be conversational, interested even, but Rhys can feel Jack’s gaze running up and down his body and he wants to go back to his room.

“I… like it?” Rhys offers. His voice catches and he looks away when he sees the slight tilt of Jack’s head and the curious gaze that enters his eyes.

Thankfully he’s saved because August said something stupid and Angel laughs and Jack’s head snaps to see what’s going on. Moxxi calls them a few minutes later for supper.

 

* * *

 

Much later, long after supper and everybody has gone to sleep, Rhys is alone in his room typing on his laptop. His ear buds in and he’s listening to music. He’s working on a little coding project he’d started during the semester and one of his teachers suggested he continue. His room borders his mothers, August’s is between his and the bathroom. Jack and Angel were staying over and August gave up his room for Angel. He tried to bully Rhys out of his bed, but Moxxi told August to take the sofa. And Jack…

Well…

Rhys didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t like thinking about it. His mother had had her fair share of boyfriends throughout his life. Two previous husbands. His wall with his mother’s bedroom was paper thin and he usually just cranked up the sound on some headphones when he didn’t want to listen to her and her latest partner fuck.

Still, he was feeling pretty thirsty.

Rhys carefully pulled his ear buds free, listening for any sound and hearing nothing. Relieved, he left his laptop and headed for the kitchen, running a hand through his shaggy hair. He really needed to cut it or something.

He paused when he saw the light coming from the open fridge door. He swallowed, his bare feet slapping against the laminate flooring. He turned to leave, but froze in the headlights as Jack lifted his head, a startled look on those features that smoothed into something else.

“Can’t sleep, kiddo?” Jack asks. His voice is slightly rough and as Rhys pauses, nods, listens to August snoring in the next room.

“Thirsty,” Rhys confesses, doesn’t understand why he’s being so quiet in his own home.

“Yeah, me too.” Jack straightens his back as he pulls out a carton of orange juice. It’s a bit of a jolt to Rhys when he realizes Jack is shirtless, and covered in a fine layer of sweat that clings to his firm and hairy body. Rhys stands there, his heart doing a strange flip as he watches Jack open the cart and bring it to his mouth, taking a long drink from it, the man’s adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow in that long neck.

Rhys rubs his arm, looks away. Only looks back when Jack lets out a satisfied sigh and offers the carton to Rhys.

Rhys shakes his head. “Mom doesn’t want us to drink from the carton.”

“Really? Well, how about this be our little secret then, huh, Rhys? Just between you and me; nobody else needs to know about it.” Jack winks and Rhys can’t fight the slight flush dotting his cheeks, wondering what exactly is wrong with him.

Rhys reluctantly nods and takes the carton from Jack’s hand, careful to avoid those powerful looking fingers dotted with callouses and brings the carton to his lips. It’s with a start that he tastes something faintly bitter and sour on his lips but he can’t place it. He glances at Jack from the corner of his eyes and sees the man leaning on the edge of the fridge door, a sly smile on those perfect lips. Rhys takes a cautious sip and finishes. He folds the end back together and hands it back to Jack who puts it back in the fridge without a word.

Jack shuts the fridge door as Moxxi tiredly calls for him from her bedroom. In the faint light from the living room TV, Jack winks at Rhys again and walks back down the hallway, leaving Rhys confused and uncomfortable.

Rhys returns to his room, sticks his ear buds back in and doesn’t move from his seat until dawn breaks, focusing himself on his school work and it alone.

 

* * *

 

Rhys returns to school to and tries to forget the weird meeting with Jack. Thinking of the experience just sends a weird feeling lose in Rhys’s gut and he doesn’t understand what it means so he brushes it off. He’ll be fine. Besides, August sends him updates of the family drama nearly every day. August works in the bar their mother owns as bartender and muscle when customers get too rowdy. That’s where she and Jack met, August rambles at three in the morning when Rhys really should be sleeping but he can’t help texting his brother. He learns that August really likes Angel but not to breathe a word to Jack about it. He also learns that Jack’s been staying over a lot.

Rhys shoves his phone under his pillow and ignores the way it buzzes with messages.

He doesn’t want to think about Jack and his mother.

He doesn’t like the way it makes him feel.

Eventually he goes back to sleep.

He barely passes a test the next day and swears to focus more on studying.

 

* * *

 

It’s spring break and Rhys is coming home. Jack is there to pick him up at the airport. Rhys tries to be normal as they go to collect his luggage.

“How were midterms?” Jack asks.

“Horrible.” Rhys says honestly, he can’t help but smile as Jack laughs.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?” Rhys asks, his interest piqued.

Jack and Rhys spend the entire drive back to Moxxi’s house talking about the challenges of university. The air between them warms and becomes comfortable. Open. Rhys can’t stop smiling and Jack is in his element talking about the horror of exams, the pressure of balancing classes and remembering to eat, the parties.

“Oh, I don’t do those.” Rhys shook his head.

“You don’t like to let off steam?”

“No. I practically grew up in the back of my mom’s bar. I don’t think alcohol hasn’t any sort of mystique or mystery too it. Drunk people are stupid people.” Rhys shrugged.

“You got a point there. What about hitting it off with someone cute?” Jack offers as they turn down a street.

Rhys shifts in the seat of Jack’s car. It’s a Mercedes. It has leather interior and heated seats. It takes him a few minutes to reply. “I don’t… I don’t date.”

“No?” There’s a surprised note in Jack’s voice and Rhys looks out the passenger window. “What, the girls aren’t cute enough?” When Rhys doesn’t respond, Jack lowers his voice just a fraction. “No good looking boys out there?”

“I don’t—” Rhys says quickly, too quick, and bits his bottom lip as Jack turns down another street.

“It’s good to experiment, you know. You’re young. Male, female, doesn’t matter. As long as you’re happy.” Jack shrugs.

Rhys looks down at his lap. Pushes his large hoodie down further, clears his throat as he looks back out his window. Neither says anything for the rest of the ride home. Angel calls at one point. She’s annoyed about something. Jack promises he’ll look into it.

Rhys is glad for her voice.

 

* * *

 

That night Rhys is stretched out in bed, staring up at his ceiling. Watching the way the little glow in the dark stickers he and August put up there when he was fourteen still shine, forming galaxies and constellations. He’s wearing a ratty old t-shirt and boxers, his had resting on his belly as his eyes trace the angles of Capricorn and Scorpio as the first _thump_ happens. He raises his head, blinking as it happens again and becomes rhythmic soon followed by faintest moans and if he listens closely enough, he can hear the grunt of each thrust.

The hairs on his neck rises and he flushes, suddenly uncomfortable in his own bed. He shifts and reaches over to grab his ear buds but pauses as a heavy chuckle makes it through the walls. He swallows, hard, that flush spreading as he slowly lies back in bed, his heart beating just a bit quicker as he allows himself to listen, trying to ignore the soft cries and focus on the grunts, and groans, coming through.

 Rhys shuts his eyes, his hand suddenly not his own as he trails his fingers down the fine line of hair leading from his belly button to under his boxers where his cock, half hard, lays against his thigh. He bites his bottom lip as he curls his fingers around the velvety skin, giving it a few dry pumps before he brings his hand up to his lips and licks a wide strip of his palm, tasting himself, before reaching down and starting all over again.  

His hips start to rock against his fist, and Rhys stops only long enough to pull his underwear off to his thighs, before he flops back into the sheets. He presses the side of his face against a pillow as he fucks his fist, his hips lifting with each thrust. He knows what he’s doing is wrong and dirty but he can’t help himself. His other hand travels up, dragging his nails against his nipples, biting the pillows to hold back his pathetic whimpers. The banging against the wall speeds up and so does Rhys’s hips, squeezing his eyes shut as he allows himself to picture himself being fucked, each grunt against his ear hot, his legs spread open, his cock in a strong hand as he’s swallowed whole and devoured by green and blue eyes and calloused hands.

Rhys comes with a startled cry, cum spurting across his hand and landing on his belly and chest. He fucks his fist as much as he can, almost curling in on himself with the intensity of his orgasm until he can’t stand it anymore and he collapses onto the bed, panting and dizzy and _thirsty_. After a few minutes he manages to catch his breath and snags a sock off of his floor. He wipes his belly, chest, and fingers clean before he tosses it aside. Slowly he climbs out of bed, rights his clothes and stumbles out of his room, heading for the kitchen.

It’s dark but Rhys knows the house by heart. He goes into the kitchen and opens the fridge. He pulls out the carton of orange juice and takes a long drink of it, his eyes shut as he lets the coolness and refreshing taste wash over him. It’s like stepping into a shower after hours of mowing the lawn on the hottest day of the year. It cools him from the inside out.

“Thought you only drank it from cups,” a voice muses next to him.

Rhys almost spits out the orange juice but he swallows instead and coughs into his arm. A warm hand clasps his back, once, twice, and then settles there between his shoulder blades, the thin cotton fabric the only thing between his skin and Jack’s.

“You okay, kiddo?” Jack murmurs. His voice is much to close, right next to Rhys’s ear and the memory of his orgasm is still so close he trembles under the touch.

“I-I’m fine,” Rhys turns to Jack, finds the man almost inches from him. He holds out the carton to Jack. “Besides, I thought you said this was our little secret?”

There’s a look in Jack’s eyes that makes Rhys wish he could run back to his room and hide under his blankets. It’s a heat, a sort of feral look that Rhys recognises instinctively but he can’t place it or know why he knows it. He can see the sweat trickling from Jack’s forehead and down the side of his jaw. It’s this point that Rhys realises just how close Jack is—that he can smell the sweat coming from the man and the musk and his mother’s perfume. Rhys swallows, his eyes fluttering at the last bit on information.

Jack smiles as he plucks the carton from Rhys and brings the box up to his mouth. He drinks long, not bothering to move away from where he has Rhys cornered against the fridge and its door. This close, Rhys can see the cords in Jack’s throat, the stubble along his jaw and chin, the faint teeth marks that dot his collarbone. Rhys bows his head, blinking as he meets Jack’s tone and darkly hair covered chest that leads to a trail down to the waist of his jeans. Rhys finally looks back up just as Jack finishes. Jack smacks his lips and places the carton back in the fridge, pressing his body against Rhys’s.

A small noise escapes from Rhys’s throat, a whimper maybe, and Jack leans even closer until his lips are on Rhys’s ear and Rhys can’t fight the full body shudder that comes from the touch.

“You’re a loud one, Rhysie,” Jack whispers.

 Rhys freezes, his eyes growing wide as panic settles heavy in his belly. He goes to move but Jack’s hand is on his chest, a pressure keeping him still.

“You always come every time someone fucks your mom?” Jack continues. He pulls back a fraction, so he can see Rhys’s gaze and Rhys knows Jack’s watching the blush spread across his cheeks and neck like wildfire.

“N-No,” Rhys sputters.

“No?” Jack cocks his head before a salacious gleam enters his eyes. “You make all those sounds listening to me?”

Rhys ducks his head. He’s too ashamed to admit it that Jack’s right. It’s wrong and immoral.

Jack makes a t’sking sound as his hand slides slow as molasses down Rhys’s chest and belly, resting on the edge of Rhys’s boxers. Rhys raises his head, eyes widening, his mouth opening into a perfect O as Jack’s hand slips under the waist band of his boxers and rests on his rapidly hardening dick.

Rhys tries to pull away but Jack’s other hand cups Rhys’s jaw, his fingers sinking into the curls he finds and Rhys can’t move, can only flicker his gaze between Jack’s eyes as Jack’s hand curls around his cock and Rhys wants so desperately to cry out.

“Not one word, or I stop, understand, Rhysie?” Jack murmurs.

Rhys rapidly nods. He brings up his hand to his mouth biting onto the flesh of his palm and ignoring the way Jack smirks. His lashes flutter shut as Jack strokes him with long, heavy strokes, and Rhys can feel it from the tips of his toes all the way up his spine. It’s so good. So much better than anything he’s ever had before, better than anything he’s ever done to himself. His hips follow Jack’s fist, his other hand comes to grip the edge of the fridge door. He’s mewling into his hand, his eyebrows screwing together as he whines into his palm. He only opens his eyes when Jack rests his forehead against his and suddenly Rhys is breathing in Jack’s breath. Jack’s watching him, his gaze flickering between watching his hand in Rhys’s boxers and Rhys’s face.

“You close, baby?” Jack whispers.

Rhys nods, his thrusts starting to turn sloppy as he tries to meet Jack’s hand.

In the distance, Moxxi calls for Jack and Rhys falters, desperation and fear and something like _wrong_ settles into his belly, fighting his arousal, and Jack’s eyes flick all over him like he can read Rhys’s mind because his grip tightens and his lips are next to Rhys’s ear.

“You better cum quick, Rhysie. Think you can do that? Think you can come all over my fingers? Think you can do it again? You’ve already come once tonight, can you come one more for me?” Jack breathes and Rhys thinks he’s going to die; he’s shaking like a storm in Jack’s grip. “Come on, I want to see you come. I want to see how pretty you get.” Jack purrs.

Jack gets his wish as Rhys comes, cum spurting over his hand and covering the inside of Rhys’s boxer shorts. Rhys lets out a sharp cry that’s barely muffled by his hand, but he comes, Jack jerking him until he whines and tries to pull away from the rough grasp. His knees feel like jelly, his limbs like they’re carrying hundred pound weights. Jack lets go of his dick and slides his hand free. Rhys watches as Jack licks a strip of cum off of his fingers before he grabs a paper towel and wipes away the rest, tossing it into the garbage.

Before he leaves, Jack smiles, and rubs his nose against the shell of Rhys’s ear. “Remember, Rhysie: this is our little secret.”

Rhys nods weakly.

 

* * *

 

Jack gets called away for work before Rhys wakes up. He doesn’t see him before he leaves for university. Rhys’s nights are spent aching and empty and desperately wishing to be touched. Jack’s words fade over time and Rhys is left struggling to find something, anything to sooth the hunger in his belly.

He meets Hugo, another computer science student.

Hugo’s nothing like Jack, but his kisses warm Rhys from the inside out and the Rhys loves the way Hugo holds him when Hugo jerks him off sometimes against the wall, sometimes in bed while they kiss. Hugo wants Rhys to go down on him. Rhys refuses. Hugo wants to have sex. Rhys refuses. Hugo accuses Rhys have having someone else. Rhys kisses Hugo until they’re fucking each other’s fists as if their lives depend upon it.

 

* * *

 

Rhys walks home from class one day and gets a phone call from his mother. There’s been some exciting news and she wants him to come home as soon as he can. He has class, finals, promises he’ll be there as soon as he can.

Rhys arrives at the airport to find Jack waiting for him.

There’s no friendly banter like last time. No laughing. Just a strange tension between them Rhys suspects is something else but he’s not entirely sure. He’s getting better at identifying these feelings, but he’s no expert. Not yet at least.

They’re in the car, driving home.

“August says you’ve got yourself a boyfriend.” Jack says. His voice is smooth. Quiet. Guarded.

Rhys shrugs, plays with the case of his phone. “Something like that.”

“What have you two been up to?” Jack continues.

“Stuff.”

“Stuff,” Jack mutters under his breath.

Rhys glances out the window and watches as they drive right past the street they’re supposed to turn down. Instead, he realizes with a hot jolt in his belly Jack’s driving them towards the edges of town. He licks his lips, shifting in his seat as his palms turn sweaty. Suddenly he feels risky and fearless and he wants to tease Jack _bad_. Wants to give the man a taste of what Rhys has been through the past few weeks.

“He’s really good at kissing.” Rhys says, watching Jack from the corner of his eyes. He catches the way Jack does a quick glance at him before focusing on the road, the car speeding up just a fraction.

“Just kissing.”

“No. He has big hands too.” Rhys says as Jack turns them down a dirt road. The Mercedes dips and bumps over the old potholes. “His hand feels really good around my cock.”

“Yeah?” Jack looks around the windows before he puts the car in park and cuts the ignition.

“Yeah,” Rhys whispers.

“Do you suck his cock?” Jack releases his seat belt.

Rhys watches as Jack’s hands go to work on his belt buckle.

“I can’t get it all in my mouth, it’s so big.” Rhys lies but he’s already released his own seat belt and Jack’s hands have unbuckled his belt and pulled his cock free from the confines of his jeans. Rhys’s mouth waters at the sight of it, and he shifts on the seat as Jack spreads his legs, getting comfortable. Jack’s not looking at Rhys; instead he’s looking around again, checking to see if the area is clear. Wordlessly, Jack reaches over, his hand curling around Rhys’ neck and pulls him over before pushing Rhys’ head down on his cock.

Rhys has never done this before and Jack’s cock is big compared to his own, it’s bigger then Hugo’s but Rhys isn’t going to tell Jack that. Instead he tries to remember what he saw in the numerous porn videos he’s watched since that night-time moment with Jack. He’s sloppy with his movements, licking and suckling the tip as Jack’s breath hitches above him. His hands come down, resting around the base of Jack’s dick while his other brace against Jack’s thigh. He bobs his head, even as Jack’s hand press his head down, urging him to take more and Rhys whines until Jack eases his grip. He covers his teeth with his lips, jaw already starting to ache as he lifts and lowers his head, drooling over Jack’s dick while his hand pumps what he can’t, and what he’s too nervous of, to take in his mouth.

 If Jack complains Rhys doesn’t hear it, instead all he hears are groans and curses spilling past Jack’s lips consisting of ‘fuck’ and ‘you little slut.’

The word slut sends a shiver up Rhys’s spine and he squirms on the seat, only stilling when Jack’s hands stroke down his back and along his spine, only stopping when the reach the back of Rhys’s pants.

“He fuck you yet, Rhysie?” Jack pants.

Rhys doesn’t respond, instead he sucks hard, his cheeks hallowing from the suction and Jack’s hips lift up.

“Heh, I bet he hasn’t, has he? You haven’t let him fuck that little ass of yours. No, you’re saving that for someone else, aren’t you, kitten?” Jack all but purrs.

Rhys lifts his head off of Jack’s dick, jerking his cock and almost gasps as Jack suddenly comes, cum splattering across Rhys’s face and covering the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, and chin, a few drops land in Rhys’s mouth and he moans at the taste. It’s salt and musk and just a bit disgusting but he loves how it feels on his skin. Rhys leans back down and sucks Jack’s softening cock for some more of the treat until Jack is pulling him off his cock with a firm grip around his neck.

Jack takes a few deep breathes before he rights himself, tucking his cock back into his jeans and buckling his belt. He puts back on his seat belt.

“Put your seat belt back on, Rhys,” Jack tells him.

Rhys swallows and lifts his head. He shakes his head. “But I’m still hard.”

“And you’re going to stay hard. Think of it as punishment.” Jack explains as he starts the car.

Panic crosses Rhys’s cum stained features. “P-Punishment?”

“For letting someone else touch you, for swallowing some assholes cock. And don’t you dare touch that cum on your face. You’re wearing that into the house.” Jack said as he turned the car around and started towards home.

Rhys whimpered, his hips lifting against the weight of the seat belt. “Jack, please, don’t do this to me.”

“Someone has to, cupcake. Someone needs to instill some discipline in this family.” Jack says. He doesn’t even bat an eye that the word ‘family’ and that weird uncomfortable weight washes over Rhys like a tsunami. He looks away, ashamed, because his cock only hardens at Jack’s words and Rhys just wants to feel his hands all over him.

 

* * *

 

When they arrive back, the cum is dry on Rhys’s face but Rhys still ducks into the house and leaves his mother in the hallway, mumbling an excuse as he heads for the bathroom. When he returns, Jack and Moxxi are kissing. Jack pulls away and mumbles something and Moxxi laughs. It’s when Moxxi turns and spies Rhys standing there uncertain that she pulls away and grabs Rhys into a hug.

Rhys retreats to his bedroom until supper. Hiding from Jack, hiding from himself, hiding from the world outside until Moxxi calls and he arrives to the table startled to see August and Angel there too.

Moxxi announces that she and Jack are going to get married in the summer. Angel storms off. August chases after Angel. Jack soothes Moxxi who’s upset Angel left. Rhys goes back to his room frustrated and swimming in a sea of uncertainty.

It’s around two in the morning when the door to Rhys’s bedroom opens and quiet feet enter before quietly shutting the door. Rhys swallows, his eyes partially open, barely awake as the feet come closer to the bed and suddenly the bed dips next to him. Rhys sluggishly rolls onto his back and sees Jack’s outline amongst the constellation of stars overhead. His lips part as Jack descends on them.

The kiss is sweet, and slow, and tender and Rhys can’t help the whimper as his arms wrap around Jack’s neck. Jack gently shushes him as his large hand slips underneath the covers and Rhys is helpless as it curls around his cock. His heels dig into the bed and he spreads his legs, lifting into Jack’s hand as Jack’s mouth steals his moans and desperate mewls.

It’s their first kiss and Rhys is greedy for more. His mouth falls open, he tries to battle against Jack’s tongue for domination, tasting something bitter and a hint of orange juice, but it’s a hopeless game that Jack quickly dominates as his hand speeds up.

It’s quick, and a just a fraction desperate, but it’s exactly what Rhys needs.

Rhys comes, his back arching off of the bed, Jack’s hand pressed against his mouth, muffling any sounds. He strokes Rhys down from his orgasm and wipes his cummy hands against the sheets before he kisses Rhys’s mouth once more, stealing the soft pants escaping past Rhys’s lips.

Just as quietly as Jack entered, he leaves, and Rhys rolls onto his side, pulling his blankets tight around him.

Next morning at breakfast, Jack and Rhys site side by side. Jack’s hand is underneath the table, hidden out of sight as he squeezes Rhys’s thigh and announces he wants Rhys to be his best man and he’d like Angel to walk down the aisle with August.

Rhys catches the glint in Jack’s gaze as Moxxi kisses Rhys’s forehead and tells him what a good son he is.

 

* * *

 

 Semester behind him, Rhys arrives at the church five hours before the wedding is supposed to take place. He isn’t sure why, but that’s what Jack wants. He hasn’t seen him since that morning after at breakfast. He’s broken up with Hugo, not that he’ll tell Jack. Why spoil the surprise?

He calls August to check on their mother. She’s just gotten up and is fussing about her dress. He tells Rhys not to worry and just enjoy himself as much as he can.

Rhys rolls his eyes and enters the church, looking for the Jack. He finds Jack alone in a private suite of the church in front of a mirror fiddling with his bowtie and jacket. The curtains are pulled across the windows. The only light is the sickly yellow bulb in the dated ceiling light. Jack pauses when he sees Rhys.

“Shut the door.”

Rhys shuts the door, and for good measure, locks it. He doesn’t catch the pleased smirk on Jack’s face.  

“Did you get your suit?” Jack asks.

“You have it.”

“Oh, I do, don’t I. It’s over there in the closet. Take it out.” Jack nods towards a wooden closet and Rhys crosses the room. He picks up the hanger and opens the protective covering. He hesitates at the sight of it.

“You don’t like it?” Jack approaches him from behind and Rhys touches the expensive fabric with his fingers.

“It’s white.” Rhys murmurs, feeling the satin bow and silk shit underneath.

“How about that. Get changed.”

Rhys takes the suit off of the hanger and goes to leave for the little attached bathroom but Jack’s hand is in the crook of his elbow. Rhys blinks, confused.

“No, cupcake. Here. Get changed here.” Jack takes the suit from Rhys and hangs it back up.

Rhys slowly blinks before he dips his head, nodding. With slightly shaky hands he pulls off his jacket and casts it aside. He then pulls off his shirt, letting it drop to the floor. He rests his hand on Jack’s shoulders and manages to pull off his shoes and socks. He breaths in a shaky breath as Jack’s hands came to his waist and starts on his jeans. Rhys looked up to Jack, watching those blue and green eyes focused before Jack popped his button and lowered his fly and with some pressure from Jack’s hands, pushed his jeans and underwear down to swim around Rhys’s ankles. Rhys stepped out of it, kicking it aside and finds himself fully naked before the man. It’s the first time he’s been naked before anybody, except his family doctor, even Hugo, and Rhys desperately wants to cover his dick and maybe run into the bathroom but Jack is staring at his body like he’s mapping it, memorizing it for later.

Jack walks around him, those rough hands trailing over the skin of his back, his hips, his shoulders and neck. They rub his arms, gently squeezing the faintest of biceps. Rhys isn’t muscular, not like August, and not broad like Jack. He’s sort of in-between: tall and slight with just a hint that he likes ice cream too much.

Jack’s hands brush against his the dark hue of his nipples and Rhys bits his bottom lip, his hands finally going to cover his dick as it starts to thicken and grow. Jack hasn’t said a word, instead his hands are curious and searching, lingering maybe a bit too long on his hips, stroking the faint hairs on his thighs and travelling up to his waist, stroking along his ribs and leaving goose bumps in their wake.

It takes Rhys far longer then he cares to realize what Jack’s doing and when he does he feels dizzy and his cock twitches under his hands. Jack’s examining him, looking for signs that he’s been touched, maybe even fucked.

His breath catches as Jack gently nudges him towards the chair that’s nearest the mirror. Rhys refuses to look at his reflection, to see himself, to see the way Jack is watching him with that predatory gleam.

“Kneel,” Jack whispers into his ear from behind and Rhys finally whimpers, starting to shake, but Jack shushes him and gently strokes his back like he’s a small animal cornered by something far larger that’ll devour him whole.

 “On your knees, Rhysie.” Jack whispers again and this time Rhys drops to his knees in front of the chair. He looks over his shoulder and up at Jack, uncertainty clear on his face and Jack just smiles, ruffling his hair with one of those large hands.

“Cross your arms on the chair, and rest your head on your arms.” Jack says. The words are an order, but spoken with silk and a rough edge to them. Rhys’s thick lashes flutter and he obeys, bracing his arms on the low seating chair, resting his burning face on his arms. He’s on his knees and exposed, his dick hanging heavy and hard between his thighs. He hears more then feels Jack kneel behind him, the rustling of his clothing and Rhys doesn’t dare look back, not even when he feels those hands gently grasp the back of his thighs and move up, curling around the inner meat and forcing Rhys to spread his legs wider.

Rhys buries his face in his arms, his face burning with humiliation and embarrassment as Jack’s hands travel up further and spread the globes of his ass, exposing his puckered entrance.

“You look so tight,” Jack murmurs, the pads of one finger touches the delicate flesh and Rhys jerks his hips forward away from the touch. Jack laughs at the reaction and Rhys practically whimpers as Jack’s hand follows, gently massaging the tight muscle.

Rhys swallows, his mouth parting as he tries to ignore how weird it feels. His heart wants to erupt from his chest but curls his hands into fists, fighting back the rising panic.

“Have you played with yourself back here, kitten?” Jack’s voice is smooth like whiskey and Rhys swallows again. When he doesn’t respond, Jack removes his finger.

It’s silent for a few seconds and Rhys wonders if he should speak, should answer Jack’s question, but whatever words he wanted to say are caught in his throat as the finger returns spit slick and rubs small circles around his entrance before it slips in and Rhys finally cries out.

His voice is high and he tries to pull forward but Jack’s other hand is tight on the meat of his ass and won’t let him move. He clutches the chair and clenches down on the offending digit as hard as he can as Jack slowly pulls it out and pushes it back inside, slow and easy. It’s uncomfortable and Rhys doesn’t understand why anybody would want to do something like this.

“Shhh, shhh, you need to relax.” Jack husks behind him and before Rhys can formulate a proper response; he stills as he feels hot breath on his ass and bites his arm as Jack’s tongue flicks out to trace his finger buried in his ass.

There’s a deep groan from behind him and Rhys shuts his eyes. His ears burn as he listens to Jack’s pleased groans, and the wet, filthy sounds coming from behind him. Against his will he starts to rock slowly backward against Jack’s tongue and finger, breathing heavily around his arm, drool starting to drip down his arm and onto the cushion of the seat. Rhys feels warm, like he’s got a fever but far more pleasant. His wonders if he can touch his cock but doesn’t ask, instead he spreads his legs a little bit wider, the carpet sure to leave imprints on his knees. Jack rewards him by pushing his tongue in alongside his finger and Rhys moans, greedy for whatever Jack will give him.

Jack stops for all of a few seconds before two spit slick fingers slide back inside and Rhys tenses, his moans trailing off at the slight sting and it starts all over again: Jack’s tongue on his ass and Rhys relaxing further and further until he’s sure his cock is dripping onto the carpet. He wonders if Jack will need to pay a cleaning bill for it, or if anybody will wonder why there’s a cum spot on the old church carpet.

Those thoughts are pushed aside as Jack’s fingers slide deeper and pull out, pumping into him, fucking him and Rhys follows them without question; his hips rocking backwards, muffled moans falling past his lips as Jack’s fingers twist and suddenly Rhys can see stars as lightning shoots from his cock and up his spine. He gasps, jumping in Jack’s grip. He can hear Jack’s pleased laugh behind him as Jack rubs the spot again and Rhys wrenches his mouth off of his arm, gasping and shaking, his cock leaking steadily now, twitching with each touch inside him.

He almost yells when Jack stops and removes his fingers but doesn’t because he can hear the clinking of Jack’s belt and he flushes with heat. Jack’s other hand leaves him and Rhys squirms on his knees, curling his toes as he finally dares to look over his shoulder. Jack’s got a packet between his teeth that he’s ripping open while his other hand is buried in his black pants, jerking himself roughly. His eyes are partially glazed, but Rhys catches his eye and Jack winks as he finally rips open the package.

“Eyes front, Rhysie.” Jack orders.

 Rhys just nods, the movement causing his hair to drop into his eyes as he looks to the seat of the chair.

One slick finger slips inside and Rhys gasps. It’s cold, but not so bad and he’s prepared when the second joins the first. There’s a ghost of a question asked from behind, asking if it hurts too much and Rhys silently shakes his head. When the third slips inside he trembles, his fingers raking marks in the fabric of the chairs seat. Those fingers twist and pull, plunging deep into him until they find that spot that makes Rhys moan low in his throat, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he follows Jack’s fingers, his cock aching now. He reaches down to give himself a squeeze but Jack’s hand swats his away and Rhys whines.

“Ah, ah, ah, no touching until Daddy’s got his cock in you.”

The words are like a punch to Rhys’s gut and he whines again, this time not in frustration but in distress and shame teased with a hint of embarrassment. He shouldn’t be here, on the floor like this with Jack. Christ, he and his mother were getting married in—

Rhys gasps and looks over his shoulder.

“The-the wedding, the time,” Rhys manages and Jack pauses before he digs his phone out from his pocket and checks the time. His lips purse before he rubs Rhys’s back reassuringly, his fingers tracing the dip of Rhys’ spine.

“Plenty of time, babe.” Jack says and Rhys shuts his mouth. He nods again as Jack leans forward and brushes the hair from Rhys’s forehead. Rhys leans into the touch, his eyes fall shut and that shame remains but it’s not nearly as powerful as the arousal sitting heavy in his gut and his throbbing cock hanging between his legs.

Jack’s hand lets go of his hair and Rhys allows his head to hit the chair seat, nuzzling his arms as Jack pulls his fingers free and something much larger nudges his puckered entrance. Rhys’s tenses but Jack’s shushing him again, rubbing his back and thigh as he keeps pushing his cock in and Rhys’s mouth fall’s open. He moans, his voice a warbling sound as Jack slowly rocks his hips against him until he’s flush against Rhys’s ass. It’s only then a strong arm wraps around Rhys waist and the other buries itself in his hair, forcing his head back so he has to look at Jack. Rhys can’t speak, his voice lost, all focus on the cock forcing his insides open, branding him and touching him so intimately he can’t help but clench down on it.

Jack moans throatily, his eyes shutting for a second as sweat breaks out on his forehead and Rhys realizes he’s sweating too. He doesn’t know if it’s because of him that Jack’s hips suddenly pull back and snap forward, he doesn’t know if the startled cry that escapes past his lips are the reason why Jack’s eyes open drugged with heat, and he doesn’t know if the reason Jack’s lips suddenly cover his, silencing his sharp cries, are the reason why he lets go of the chair and clings to Jack’s arm around his waist while his other reaches and grabs Jack’s hair, holding the man’s head still so they can kiss sloppy and wet. He can taste himself on Jack’s lips and a part of him shies away in disgust while the other greedily wants whatever Jack will give him. Jack’s hips snap against his again and Rhys is lost.  

Over the roar of the blood in his ears, Rhys can hear them; can hear the wet sound of Jack fucking his ass. The chair is the only thing holding them up and it’s thudding dangerously against the carpet with each thrust until it topples over and Rhys tears his mouth away, barely able to stop his fall. He stops, panting, blinking as he stares at the carpet. Jack shifts behind him and Rhys wants to ask what’s wrong when Jack’s hand in his hair pushes his face against the carpet while the one around his waist pulls him to his knees and holds him in place.

Rhys whines again, his face burning, his body rocking with each thrust as Jack holds him to the floor and fucks him. He imagines for the briefest second his mother and Jack like this but Rhys pushes the image away, ashamed at himself for thinking it, ashamed at himself for being like this with Jack, ashamed at himself for liking how the man dominates and holds him and fucks him on his large cock.

This time when his hands reach between his legs, Jack doesn’t stop him, but he lets go of Rhys’ hair and grabs both of his hips, grunting with each thrust as Rhys curls his hand around his own cock. Rhys moans, his body almost lifting off of the floor with each thrust and he knows Jack is close; he can feel it with how Jack’s cock starts to swell inside his tight ass. He strokes himself and on his fifth pull he comes, clenching down so hard on Jack’s cock that the man swears above him before his thrusts turn ragged and he comes.

Rhys gasps, his eyes snapping open at the sensation of hot cum flooding his ass. He tries to wiggle away from Jack but the grip on his hips is too tight and Jack won’t let him move. Instead Jack fucks into him, pumping cum with each thrust until he collapses on top of Rhys, his breath hot on Rhys’s ear, his weight comfortable and the hair of Jack’s chest slightly itchy against his bare back.

They lay there on the floor, catching their breath, Rhys unsure of what to say, what to do until Jack speaks. “I got you a present, for after.” Jack whispers into his ear

“After?” Rhys mumbles.

Jack pulls out of him and Rhys shivers. There’s the rustle of paper behind them and Rhys barely lifts his head until something hard and firm teases his sore entrance. Rhys shies away from it, squirming even as it presses inside and he clenches down on it and it pops into place. He raises himself on his elbows, flustered and uncertain, but Jack’s grinning, pleased face makes him pause.

“A plug.”

“A plug,” Rhys murmurs, clenching down on the toy and frowning.

“Yeah. You’re going to wear it during the ceremony,” Jack leans forward, his eyes transfixed on Rhys’s brown ones.

“But—” Rhys tries to object and Jack presses a kiss to his lips, stopping him from speaking.

“Would you rather stand there and have cum drip down the back of your thighs while your mother and I give our vows?” Jack husks.

Rhys swallows. He searches Jack’s eyes for something, anything he can identify, but all he finds is that same look Jack gave him the first night Jack jerked him off: a wild and feralness that makes Rhys whimper.

“No.” Rhys finally whispers and Jack nods.

“Come on, we need a shower and then we’ll get dressed, and the day will go on.” Jack says against his lips.

On jelly legs, and with Jack’s help, he manages to stand. They make their way to the bathroom and the tiny shower. Rhys enters first; leaning against the tiled wall as Jack carefully strips the remains of his clothes and hangs it on the back of the door before he joins Rhys in the shower.

Jack washes him. His hands large hands run up and down Rhys’s body, rubbing the soap suds into his skin and Rhys returns the favour, finally getting to touch Jack’s body. They kiss, their mouths finding each other again and again as their hands explore each one another’s bodies. Jack’s hands sweep down and squeeze Rhys’s cheeks before pulling them apart and playing with the plug, tugging on it, shallowly thrusting it in and out of Rhys until Rhys was panting and hard once more. Jack turns him around and removes the plug before he fucks Rhys against the tiled wall, his hands tweaking and pinching Rhys’s nipples until they reached down to cup and gently roll his balls and stroke his cock. Rhys comes against the wall, his cum splattering the white tiles as Jack ruts into him behind and comes not long after. Rhys pants and tries to catch his breath even as Jack eases the anal plug back inside Rhys’s too sore ass.

Afterwards, when Jack has dried them both, Jack dresses Rhys in the white suit. He dresses while Rhys watches and leans down to press a kiss against his lips as the priest knocks on the door and says that Moxxi is ready.

Jack straightens the cuffs of his tuxedo and smiles at Rhys.

“Come on, Rhys. Let’s not keep your mother waiting.”

Rhys just nods and as he walks beside Jack, the plug moves and shifts inside of him and he wonders if everybody in the church knows it’s there, or if they know what he and Jack have just gotten up to.

Eventually the music starts, and his mother wearing white walks down the aisle soon followed with Angel and August arm in arm. Moxxi stands next to Jack and pauses as she takes in Rhys’s white suit but says nothing, instead she gives him a warm smile and winks at Jack who winks and they both turn to face the priest.

 

* * *

 

After the ceremony, after the wedding, after the supper feast, and after everybody has drunk and partied, Rhys returns to his hotel room, the plug still inside and he wonders what he should do with it. He doesn’t have to wonder long because there’s a sharp knock on his door and Rhys opens it without looking to see who it is. Jack breezes past him and Rhys has just shut it when Jack hauls him against the door and crushes his mouth against his. Rhys whimpers into the kiss and tries desperately to keep up only to fail miserably so he submits in Jack’s hands and when he does, there’s a sound in Jack’s throat like he approves.

Without a word, Jack pulls back and works Rhys’s white pants off. Rhys fumbles with his shoes before he’s spun around and Jack’s hand presses against his back, holding him in place as he reaches between Rhys’s pert cheeks and taps the anal plug twice. Rhys swallows, his heart like thunder in his head as Jack finally eases the toy out and he grimaces as Jack slips a finger inside and teases the cum out of him. As Jack scoops the cum out only to slide his finger back inside, Rhys shrugs off his jacket and quickly works on his bowtie and shirt. He casts them off as Jack grabs his wrist and hauls him toward the bed, throwing him face down onto the soft comforter.

Rhys barely has time to roll onto his back before Jack’s back between his thighs. He grabs his own dick, squeezing it as Jack lowers the fly of his own, not even bothering to lower his pants and reaches inside pulling out his own cock. Rhys licks his lips before his legs are hiked up and Jack’s smearing some sort of slick gel onto his cock. Rhys grabs his leg and pulls it close to chest, embarrassment climb across his cheekbones at displaying himself so openly but Jack pauses before he smiles approvingly and he slides his cock into Rhys’s well used hole. The plugs kept him nice a loose and Rhys thumps his head back against the pillows as Jack fucks him, the headboard starting to bang against the wall with each thrust. Rhys pants, moans coming unbridled as Jack speeds up, fucking Rhys fast and quick and dirty. He comes before Rhys, cursing under his breath but Rhys just murmurs something under his breath as Jack jerks him off.

Jack pulls out of Rhys and tucks himself back into his pants and steps off of the bed. Without another word he leaves Rhys alone in the hotel room. The door slams shut behind him and Rhys curls into the blankets, his eyes falling shut because he knows Jack will be back later once Moxxi and he have their wedding night.

 

* * *

 

Much later, around three am, Jack sneaks into Rhys’s hotel room and Rhys barely awakens before Jack slides under the blankets with him and strong arms wrap around his body.

“Our little secret,” Jack kisses his neck.

Rhys makes a humming sound in his throat and holds the arms, snuggling back into Jack’s arm.

“Our little secret.” Rhys replies.

He feels Jack’s smile on the skin of his neck.

End.

 

 

 

 


End file.
